Not supposed to go like that
by The Late Arthur Dent
Summary: Daryl Dixon is a troubled 10 year old, longing to be allowed to hang out with his older brother. A new kid moves into town and the two get along...until something terrible starts a chain reaction of events which will change his life forever. Now on the run with only his brother...how will the two cope. Non cannon. Bildungsroman. Daryl/Carol in later chapters.
1. In For A Dime

**Chapter 1: In for a dime…**

Daryl stared hard at the cricket he held in his hand. He was crouching beside a fallen tree, waist deep in tall grass, dirt all over his legs and trousers which were ripped off at the knee. He tilted his head to the side to get a better look as it rubbed its legs together making the familiar chirping sound.  
"You aren't disgusting enough, sorry lil buddy." He said, more to himself than to the cricket, and he let it hop off as he stood up to his full height. He looked around, assessing the scenery, before taking hold of a large branch and setting off down the hill, through the trees towards the river. He used the stick to smack at hanging reeds and branches as he waded through the grass, always keeping his eyes open for more bugs. The river was fast moving, and ran all the way from the nearby mountains down past the village in the valley, not that you would know it looking from where Daryl was standing due to the density of the surrounding trees. The thought occurred to Daryl as he reached the river bed. Here he was, no one could see him, no one knew he was here, he couldn't see any iconic landmarks to get his bearings, anyone else could easily get lost out here; stumble and forget which way he had come from – or where he was supposed to go…his mother would have a heart attack. That is, if she wasn't already dead.

He crouched down and dipped his hand into the water. It was refreshingly cool, but the trees were providing him enough shelter from the hot sun. Bathing in the river was not necessary. He stood up again, looked right, towards the mountains and hurled the stick he had been carrying as far upstream as he could. For a ten year old he had a good arm and it landed about fifteen metres away. He then waded out into the river and waited for it to come back down. He stood with his legs parted, feet out of the water on two protruding rocks and watched his stick flow through his legs. He turned around and watched it float away downstream, then followed it, allowing his already wet shoes and socks to sink below the water. It wasn't deep, only half way up his bare shin, and although it was fast moving he was well practiced at maintaining his balance.

He followed the river around a few bends, always down on its way to the village below, and on his way he turned over a few rocks always looking for something he could take home. He found nothing of interest. As he walked, his penknife bounced in his pocket against his left leg, a comfort to him. As the river widened and the banks grew further apart, Daryl moved over to the left, to make sure he stayed on his side of the river; it would soon become very difficult to cross. It was also getting deeper, now the tiny peaks that dictated the flow of the river were lapping at the frayed ends of his home-made shorts. It didn't bother him, and he continued until the banks were far enough apart that the sunlight shone through the break in the canopy. He could see the sun, and tell the arch was nearing its end which meant it would be dark soon. He had between two and three hours to return. Plenty of time to get to where he was going, but he still needed a 'gift'. Knowing the river as well he did, he corrected his path a little towards a low hanging branch of a large tree. It hung very conveniently about six foot over the river. If Daryl could find a big enough rock to stand on he could easily reach it and hoist himself up into the tree, and from there he could climb higher until he found something worthy…

With a large boulder in his hands and another stick wedged under his arm, he constructed his path into the tree. The stick could be used to poke living creatures to make sure they weren't too violent. If they were, the penknife could come in handy. He heaved himself up onto the branch and carefully walked along it to the trunk, where he found footing enough to make it a further ten feet up the tree. There he found something perfect. A smile spread across his cheeky face as he brushed a strand of dirty blonde hair out of his eyes and began to crawl out along another, much thinner branch, his penknife in his right hand, stick in his left. The branch wobbled dangerously…but the golden prise was just poking out of a split in the wood.  
"Well…in for a dime…" Daryl muttered to himself, and he continued to crawl…

"Daryl, lil brother! Bout time you showed up! Nearly missed your initiation! And we wouldn't want that now, would we?"  
Daryl stood on a patch of very slippy moss, craning his neck to look up to his elder brother Merle who was perched on the edge of a dodgy looking plank of wood he called a tree house. Kyle was with him, as was Duncan. The other boys looked disinterested at Daryl's arrival, even though he was soaking wet, bleeding and limping from falling out of the tree. Merle wasn't very high up the tree, an adult could have reached the bottom of the plank on a good jump, but to Daryl it was intimidating enough. He waved at his brother, in an unusually affectionate way, partly to show off the long scrape down his left arm, but mostly to show him the bloodied tarantula that was stuck to the end of his penknife. He was very proud of having been able to kill it. The last person who tried to catch one in this area was bitten and hospitalised. He hadn't even been scratched. Holding the trophy aloft he began to make his way up the tree, Merle watching him with a sinister smile playing about his lips. He was 9 years older than Daryl and his friends were all in their twenties, and he loved very much to benefit from Daryl's longing to be in with the crowd. This was the first time he really got to test his brother's loyalty though. Don't get me wrong, Merle loved his brother, but in his own way.

Daryl panted as he attempted to climb one handed into the tree. It was very difficult due to the shortness of his legs in comparison to his brother and the other boys who usually hung out up here. Kyle himself was about six foot tall, and Duncan was just under that. Daryl was only ten, skinny and barely five foot tall. It would have been tricky enough with both hands, but the tarantula wouldn't fit in his pocket and there was nowhere else to put it – Merle certainly wasn't offering him any help. He wedged his left foot into a small crack in the bark and kicked off from the ground with his right foot, swinging it madly to try and place it on a higher branch whilst reaching out with his free hand to grab a branch that was just low enough for him to reach the end of. He managed to get his foot into position, but missed the branch with his hand and ended up flailing wildly, instinctively wrapping both of his arms around the trunk of the tree to steady himself. Panting hard, heart beating twice its usual pace, he stretched out and grabbed the branch at the base where it joined the tree – the strongest point structurally – and regained his balance, but not his confidence. He was now sweating profusely as he analysed his next step. He cursed below his breath when he realised he needed another hand. Staring at the tarantula, he tried to work out another way…any other way…but there was none. He flipped the penknife so he was holding the blade and put the handle in his mouth. It tasted disgusting, sweat, blood, piss and grit having never been washed. He grimaced, and made eye contact with Merle who was smirking slightly. Kyle and Duncan looked down, watching with mild interest, although they were quickly distracted when one of them put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two rolls and a lighter.  
"Dope!" he heard Duncan say and the two laughed in their idiotic, freshly broken voices.

"C'mon lil brother…don't disappoint Merle."

Daryl used both of his hands to pull himself up as high as he could with his feet now not touching anything, and swung his right leg as high as he could, wrapping it around a branch like a monkey, he straightened his back and forced his body higher into the tree. As soon as he had a free hand he took the knife out of his mouth and spat down to the ground. He was now nearly level with Merle. The rest was easy – practically a ladder. He pulled his way up onto the plank of wood and stood, breathing heavily, holding the knife out to his brother, a proud smile on his face.

"I did it! Now…you let me hang…with you guys! Come on! I brought you…something disgusting…something cool…and I made it into your…tree house…and…you said…" he panted, waiting for Merle to congratulate him, or praise him, or look at him at least. But his brother was watching his friends light up. "Merle!" Daryl said as forcefully as he dared. "C'mon man!"  
"Y'know lil brother, I don't think you're ready just yet." Merle said, still not looking at Daryl. "C'mon boys, I hear Lindsay's working tonight." He said to his friends. The two boys wooped and catcalled, and the three of them sat on the edge, dangling their legs off the side. Duncan and Kyle launched themselves from the ledge landing ungracefully on the mud before getting up and waving Merle down. Merle looked up at Daryl finally, noticing the tears in his little brothers eyes.  
"Here, lemme see that." He said finally, holding out his hand. Daryl gave him the knife. "Yeah, you did alright punk. See y'at home. Don't tell th'old man where I am, you hear me?" Daryl nodded. Merle smiled, then he dropped down off the ledge and kicked Kyle, before the three of them headed off down towards the village. Daryl watched them go, then picked up the knife Merle had left on the floor, and carefully made his way down out of the tree house.


	2. True Brotherhood

_**Hey, just want to say thanks for reading, please review: always happy for constructive criticism. Thanks for your support Guest, Nineandthreequarters23 and I luv ewansmile you've made me happy by reviewing in the first hour of me posting so thanks! Keep reading!**_

**Chapter 2: True brotherhood**

Dragging his feet behind him, Daryl approached the back door; a simple wooden frame with translucent mesh for windows which bent under his touch as he applied enough pressure to open it only a crack. Just enough for his tiny ten year old frame to squeeze through – a fine art it was opening the door enough to get through but without it squeaking. He crept through the kitchen and into the cramped hall of the small wooden house he shared with his father, Merle, and his father's wife. He refused to call her mom, or even his step-mom. She was neither of that to him. She was his father's wife. He tried his best to only walk on the rug, avoiding the wooden floor that would alert anyone in the house to his presence. He was very _very_ good at being quiet when he came home. He clutched his knife as tightly as he could, not to use it, but because if he didn't hold on to something that tightly he was worried he would lose his grip on the reality of the moment. Fear was holding his hand tight shut around the small handle of the knife. Through more mesh on the front door he could see that it was finally dark outside. That meant that when Merle came home he would be expecting a fight. It was going to be a rough night.

He reached the foot of the stairs, from where he could see clearly into the only other room downstairs. His father's chair had it's back to the doorway as usual, facing the fire which was blazing behind the grate. A head and shoulders were clearly visible through a cloud of smoke at the top of the chair – a sight which sent alarm bells ringing in Daryl's terrified mind. His father was home. He stood very still at the bottom of the stairs, eyes clamped tightly closed for a moment, taking deep steadying breaths. Then he lifted his right foot, two steps up and over to the right as far up to the banister as he could to prevent squeaking. He slowly applied pressure with one hand on the rail and the other on the wall, and lifted his weight onto the second step. He then had to skip to the fifth step with his left foot to skip the third and fourth which were even louder than the first. One rule under the roof of Will Dixon – do _not _disturb me. Once both his feet were safely on the fifth step he managed the rest of the way by fitting his feet into the gaps in the banister – something he would only be able to do for a little while longer until his feet got too big, and something Merle had taught him when he was only three years old.

Once on the landing things became easier. His room was just opposite him and Daryl had just started to relax his grip on the knife a little when a bang made him jump. Someone had slammed the front door, hard. Daryl whirled around to see his brother standing right at the bottom of the stairs, staring straight ahead into the living room. He had a bit of a smirk on his face, almost like a challenge. There was silence for a moment, then came the explosion.  
"DA FUCK YOU DOING LAD!?"  
"You know what old man, come have a go then!" Merle answered. His eyes flicked up to the top of the stairs where he saw his little brother, rooted to the spot. Suddenly he looked guilty, his face flushed a little and his eyes widened a little in horror. He hadn't realised Daryl was in the house or he would never have even tried to start something. Daryl shook his head. Merle looked away from him, back his dad. Daryl saw a shadow in the doorway and bolted. He didn't want to watch what was going to happen next. He ran into his bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him, dropping his knife onto the table in the corner and pressing his hands over his ears tight he screwed his eyes closed. In his head he repeated the same words over and over again, but he could still hear his father pounding his brother. As much as he always said he hated Merle, he loved him really. And on top of that he knew that once Merle walked out, he'd get the full brunt of Will's violent attitude. Shouting echoed through the floor. Will was swearing loudly at Merle between blows, and from the depth and resonance of the thumps it was clear that Merle was now on the floor, and was being beaten down into it. It was an under-fed eighteen year-old boy against a fattening forty year-old man who fights at the pub every night. Daryl tried harder to block it out. He didn't know why Merle found the need to start a fight knowing the outcome, but it was the same nearly every week. Then he would be gone for days and it would fall to Daryl to be the perfect son. The words swam round in his head as he tried to block out the grunts from the bottom of the stairs. His mother's voice. Tears formed fast behind his closed eyes like billowing pools and rushed to freedom down his face. His hair fell in front of his eyes, hiding him from the world.

_I love you Daryl, never let that go. I love you. You're worth something, you mean something, and violence is not the only way to live. I love you. Don't let your father take that from you, don't let him take away your happiness. I love you Daryl, never let that go._

It was only ten minutes later that someone knocked on Daryl's door. He was sitting on the floor with his legs right up, head between his knees, pressure on his ears to try and block out the world he didn't want to live in anymore. The knock was soft, but that didn't fool Daryl, not even for a moment. He kept his eyes shut and breathed deeply, waiting for them to go away. Will hadn't seen Daryl yet. It was possible he'd believe the silence and think he was out. There was an intense silence for a few moments and Daryl's deep breathing slowed until he barely dared to breathe at all. He waited. They knocked again, this time a little harder, but still quite weak and soft. It didn't seem a loving soft though, it was more like they couldn't put more into it if they tried. Then Daryl heard his voice.  
"Lil, bro, help me please…"

Daryl jumped up as fast as he could and wrenched the door open. Merle was sitting against the wall beside the door, his hand still in the air from where he had been knocking. He was bloodied and his right eye was massively swollen, he even had a cut on his head that was clearly visible through his short hair. This was much much worse than normal. On a normal night, if Merle picked a fight with their father, he would refrain from doing too much visible damage. This time he hadn't held back. This time Merle was an adult as well and he was as entitled to a full beating as anyone down at the pub who tried to fight with Will Dixon. Daryl walked carefully out into the hall, eyes wildly searching every corner for the man he hoped never to see.  
"He's gone out man," Merle said, the hand that was in the air now falling to grip Daryl's elbow. "I need you to get me some vodka or something to clean these cuts, and bandages, we'll probably need some bandages. Hey, you asked me to teach you medical stuff didn't you? This'll help you out'n the woods boy, go do it."

There was a plentiful supply of Vodka in the house, but if Daryl took any it would be hell to pay, so he played it safe and went out to the shed where Will brewed his own spirits with yeast and potato. He managed to get some out without destroying the distillation, and poured it into a cloth, then he rummaged around for some clean looking socks, and headed back inside. He ran up the stairs, this time not bothering about the third and fourth step, but missing the first out of habit.  
"I found these…" he said to Merle, holding them out.  
"You got socks in the shed?" Merle asked, one eyebrow raised. "For real? You know _he_ puts them there to clean out spider webs and shit…"  
"These are clean, he made me clean them all two days ago and leave them out there to dry." Daryl said, pressing them into Merle's reluctant hands. "And I used the home stuff cause I thought it'd be stronger…" he lied. He had used the home stuff for alcohol, but not due to strength. In reality he just didn't want to have to go back to school in September looking like Merle did now. The scars on his back from his father's belt were enough.

They spent around an hour sitting at the top of the stairs by Daryl's room, helping each other clean all of Merle's new cuts and bruises. He had a nasty swelling on his wrist that looked a lot like he could have broken it, but Merle refused to make a trip to the hospital.  
"Don't give the fucker the satisfaction" he growled to himself with that developing low drawl he was developing. "Thanks for your help bud. You're still not in my gang, but you can hang out at the tree house if we're not there. And if you buy us shit to put up there. Agreed?"

Daryl smiled widely, both to himself and his brother. This was as 'in' as he was going to get today. "Agreed." He said, holding his hand out for Merle to shake. Merle looked down at it and huffed, then crawled to his feet, and vanished into his room, shutting the door behind him. Daryl heard a click and knew he had locked it to save his life that night. Bowing his head, Daryl went into his own room and, once he had shut the door, moved the heavy table in front of the door, just below the handle, enough to stop someone unwanted getting in. He shuddered at the thought. Then he took one last look at his tarantula, now lying on the table having fallen off the knife, and got into bed.


	3. Bonding'

_**A/N thank you adelicateflower08 for your lovely review, yes I will be continuing…like…right now! :)**_

**Chapter 3: 'Bonding'**

Daryl slept well considering what had happened the night before. He was still lying curled up right at the head of his bed, clinging tightly to his mother's coat as he did every night, when he heard a door slamming downstairs, followed immediately by shouting, a woman and two men. Daryl sat bolt upright, filled with that crawling dread that fills everyone when they are woken suddenly from a deep sleep. He couldn't quite catch his breath and his heart felt like it was breathing slightly out of whack. He gripped the edge of his bed tightly, and slowly allowed himself to recover before focusing on what was happening downstairs.  
"…FUCK MY WIFE AND THEN YOU COME IN HERE, AND YOU SWAGGER ROUND LIKE YOU THINK YOU'RE FUCKING **ROCKY**, AND YOU DARE TO **FUCKING **INSULT ME!"

_So that's why she wasn't there last night, and probably why Merle got beat up so bad._ Daryl thought to himself. _She was off with some other man…some other man who obviously hasn't heard of crazy Will Dixon up on the hill in his little wooden hut with the two delinquent kids. Probably a village boy._

There was more shouting that Daryl couldn't make out, then the woman's voice kicked in, softer than the others. She sounded pleading, diplomatic. In spite of myself I almost snorted with laughter at the thought of someone actually trying to reason with my father as if he would listen. As if he would listen! She had barely begun talking when I heard his voice. He sounded so like Merle…but deeper, and with such a mocking tone, like everything he said was patronising. Then the door slammed again. If he had a bedroom at the front of the house he would have watched to see them leave, but his bedroom faced the woods and the river, with the mountains on the horizon, and some days he could see the village in the far left of his view. He couldn't see the road.

A knock on his door made me jump. Slowly, Daryl opened his eyes and stared at the door, clutching the coat harder; sharp, quick breaths escaping into the air like he wished he could. Hesitantly, he unfolded his legs from underneath him and made to get up off the bed. The person tried to open the door, but it just banged against the table. With a little more effort they could manage it. He waited to see if that effort would come. If they tried again to get into his room then it was his father, and Daryl was already inching towards the window in case it was him. Otherwise it was Merle. There was silence for a moment, then another knock. Merle. Daryl rushed over and pushed the table out of the way and opened the door. He was leaning on the wall, but standing this time.  
"He's in the kitchen. I'm leaving D. I'm going to Kyle's for a bit until he cools off." Merle grumbled. Daryl shook my head at him, silently pleading. _Don't leave me with him!_ He thought to himself. But he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. "G'bye brother. I'll see y'round." Merle said before punching Daryl on the shoulder, lightly enough to be affectionate, hard enough that he wasn't being a pussy. And with that he turned around. Now Daryl saw that he had a ripped backpack on, presumably full of the stuff he would need so that he didn't need to come back. He watched him hop down the stairs and quickly leave the house, closing the door firmly but quietly behind him.

"BOY!?"

Daryl jumped out of his daydream. He was again sitting on his bed, but this time thinking about what it would be like if he went with Merle. Just ran away. So far he hadn't been pushed to do so, but it was starting to seem like a very valid option – just leave and not come back. It's not like the old man would miss him, unless he was missing his punching bag. Daryl's mother had begged Will to stop, and for her sake he had mediated his beatings when it came to Daryl. Now she was gone. She had been for four years. And now his other mom was gone, the one who was just his dad's wife. Now she was gone too, and Merle was gone…everyone was gone.

"BOY!" Will shouted again. Daryl got up and walked to the top of the stairs, looking down. Will was standing at the foot, waiting. He wasn't holding a belt, so Daryl began to inch down towards him, still cautious but unsure of what else he could possibly do.

"Come in here. I want to talk to you." Will said when Daryl was on the fourth step, just out of reach. He then turned away and went to sit in his chair in front of the fire. Daryl followed him and stood on a small rug just to the side, in front of him.  
"It has come to my attention that we don't really get on, do we?" Will said matter of factly. "So it's time for some, er, bonding."  
"Yes sir." Daryl muttered, only just loud enough to be heard.  
"Ok."

There was an awkward silence for a very long time, Will staring intently at the fire and Daryl watching the patterns on the rug. Neither of them knew what to say. Daryl certainly didn't dare speak first. By bonding he had no idea what his father meant.

Finally Will broke the silence. "So, did you hear the President has signed another treaty with the fuc- sorry lad, the scummy Soviet bastards!" he asked. Daryl looked up, surprised he had withheld the swearing, something he had certainly never even attempted to before. And why was he talking about the Soviets? Daryl didn't even know what that meant!  
"No, sir I didn't hear about that." Daryl mumbled.  
"Well…he…he has."

There was another unbearable silence.

"Well lad, that was nice. Why don'cha go play in the woods or summit. What ever you FUCKERS DO!" he ended in a yell. Daryl flinched massively. He had made his father angry by not talking.  
"Y-yes sir…" he spluttered before heading as quickly as a walk would allow for the door. He walked through the hall, ran through the kitchen and threw himself threw the long grass they called a garden into the woods, again heading towards the river. He was halfway there when he realised he had left his penknife on the discarded table in his room. He skidded to a stop and thought about it for a moment, head angled back the way he came as he considered going back for it. _Pop seems like he's in a decent mood today, despite mom _no_ his wife walking out…_he pondered…but then a lifetime of memories convinced him otherwise. There was always a calm before the storm. Besides what good would his knife do him? It's not like he needed it.

He picked his way through the woods to his favourite part of the stream, right where he started out the day before. Only this time, he was heading upstream. He didn't want to have to walk past where Merle would probably be doping up with his mates. The mountains were a great place to hang out…and it wasn't too cold up there in July either, so he stayed on the bank and followed the river as it hurried along past him. Every now and then he saw a fish, and once he saw what looked like a snake or lizard. That made him stop to watch, but it was gone before he could get a good enough look at it to work out what it was exactly.

Daryl carried on until he reached a small waterfall, and the path became blocked by slimy rocks which he couldn't get over. He looked across the water and saw something he wasn't expecting…a pair of eyes looking right at him. Daryl was completely startled. He never saw anyone out here, no one except Merle and his idiotic friends. This wasn't Merle or any of his friends. It was a young boy. He looked younger than Daryl. Daryl didn't really know what to do, so he put on a half-smile, before realising that he was older, and if he was older, he didn't have to be nice to this kid. He stuck out his tongue, wedged his hands in his pockets, turned the other way and started to walk through the woods away from the river. _Stupid kid's probably lost._

He didn't want to walk too far away from the river, it was guiding him, so once he was out of sight of the kid, he continued up stream, pulling himself up the hill towards the top of the waterfall using trees like handles and footholds. It was tiring work, but he was happy to do it. For some reason, physical work made him feel like more of a man, and if he was more of a man then he would someday be able to stand up for himself against his dad. _Not that dad had needed standing up to today… _he reminded himself…_maybe he's changing…_

Once at the top of the hill the trees thinned out. It was like a massive clearing. The river was wider up here, and thinned out as it reached the waterfall…up here it was like a massive lake. After that hard work, Daryl actually fancied a swim. He smiled to himself as he walked a bit further down to where the river was widest and deepest. Here it was more like a lake; at least a mile across to the other side, where at the bottom of the waterfall it was barely ten feet. He pulled off his shoes and socks and took off his shirt. He would leave his tattered shorts on, just in case someone saw him. Leaving his clothes in a pile under a rock, he waded out into the cool river. The current was strong, but so was he. And it wouldn't be as strong nearer to the middle; there the water was surprisingly still and peaceful; there, he couldn't even touch the bottom, and floated on his back with his eyes closed. A smile fell onto his face as he lay there.


	4. Repercussions

_**A/N… I'm sorry if there's weirdness in this chapter, I was listening to the Muppets movie soundtrack whilst I was writing it…(yeah, there's a little insight into my almost-adult life)**_

**Chapter 4: Repercussions **

Daryl lay in the water for what was his best guess at an hour. It was nice to be able to leave everything behind. Once he had had his fill, he righted himself and swam back to shore, to where his clothes were, and that's when he heard the voices. Out of instinct at the sound of the man's voice, he searched for the source, and his eyes fell upon a small group on the opposite bank, a man and woman who were not looking his way, and the small boy again, who was staring straight at Daryl yet again. He was smiling. Now he was waving. They were too far away for Daryl to make out the features of the man and woman, but she had blonde hair, and he had dark hair, tanned skin and looked fairly well built. The boy also had dark hair. Daryl assumed they were a family. They looked happy.

He was just turning to leave when he heard the woman's voice again. This time it was familiar, so he turned back and stared across the river. It was only a second before he realised he was not going to be able to see who it was from where he was stood, they were just too far away. He headed back to the waterfall, and very carefully picked his way across the top, trying his best to stick to the rocks. What he was doing was incredibly dangerous, but inside him he could feel a thrilling rush from knowing that what he was doing was seriously crazy. Grinning to himself, he hopped from rock to rock, slipping once and drenching himself as he fumbled for a hold and dragged himself back out of the water, still grinning. After a short struggle that only lasted a terrifyingly satisfying five minutes or so, he made it across, and hurriedly started to head over to where the family were setting up. It was quite a long walk, and Daryl was a little concerned that they would be gone by the time he got there, but after recognising the woman's voice he was tempted too far. Plus, he didn't have anything better to do that day, it was the summer holidays after all, what more could be expected of a troublesome child of William Dixon?

After about half an hour of walking through the woods, Daryl reached the clearing on his side and could again see the river, only now, he was looking across at where he had gotten changed. He was right, they had already moved away, but that didn't deter him. Being the son of a hunter and a brother to Merle Dixon – the world's most successful stalker and peeping tom – he could easily find them. He took a moment to work out from the watermarks on the pebbles that they had been in the water, and from there he could see where they had been sitting. He then looked for the tiny signs of dust clouds, where they had landed, where they had been formed, and followed the path they marked out. To anyone else he was just staring at a very pebbly beach, but for Daryl, even at his age it was an easy path to follow. They headed directly into the woods at a perpendicular angle to the water, actually marking a path in the long grass by bending and breaking strands. Daryl easily followed it, collecting a stick to hold on his way. He liked the comfort of having one in his hands. The path was not straight. Whoever had marked it out was not a woodsman. It made Daryl want to weep a little inside at the failed attempts the person had made to break branches out of the way…all they had managed to do was to bend them at awkward angles and half snap them…but the trees here were stringy and difficult to snap, you had to either cut them, or wait for an animal to do it for you. Daryl's sticks were normally the leftovers of the work of a woodpecker. Winding through the trees in a very illogical manner, Daryl was starting to get annoyed following someone else's path when it suddenly opened up into a clearing he had no idea existed. It was almost perfectly picturesque, the wooden log house, the chimney with smoke billowing out, Jeep parked on hard-packed dirt and orange leaves…and there they were, the father and son on the porch in rocking chairs no less, and the woman in the front doorway. She was tall, blonde and now he saw why she was so familiar. He had seen her nearly every day for at least three years. _Mom…_ he thought, before correcting himself, _dad's wife._

She finished her conversation with the man, and went into the house, returning seconds later with a salad of sorts which she gave to the man. He jumped up out of his seat and the two went into the house having a quick discussion, shutting it behind them. Daryl was unsure of what to do next. He could either leave, or he could go over and talk to her…maybe she could explain what was going on, I mean, Daryl wasn't stupid, he could see that she had left his dad for this man and his kid…but he had to admit that hurt a little. I mean, that kid was about the same age as Daryl, only a few years younger…well, if she wanted a new, younger family to replace the one she had with the Dixon family then she could do what she wanted. He didn't care she wasn't even his mum. Daryl decided to leave before he got too ups…_not upset…_before he went over there and told her off on behalf of his dad. As Will had said that morning, you can't go fuck someone else's wife yeah?

He was just about to leave when he noticed the little boy was looking at him again. Not just in his direction, but straight at him. So he hesitated. Then he ran, fast, away from the house.

* * *

The little boy's name was Ben. He was in fact the same age as Daryl, but small for his age. He had always been small for his age. He had brown eyes and hair, and was exceptionally friendly, and perceptive. He could see when people needed a friend. And he could see Daryl Dixon as he hid behind a tree. He used to live in Iowa with his dad, on their own. But then a woman started visiting, she came to visit her brother, and then when she was visiting her brother she would visit Ben's dad, and then she started visiting Ben _and_ his dad. It was like having a mommy. Ben had never had a mommy; she had died when Ben was born. Then, mommy stopped visiting, and daddy went crazy and said they had to move, they had to go after her. He said mommy wouldn't leave where she was now because she had a job there, but daddy wouldn't take no for an answer, and they moved here a month ago. Now mommy was going to live with them. And now, Ben could see a boy he could play with.

He was about to call out, to ask the boy his name, ask if he wanted to play when the boy saw him…and as soon as they made eye contact he ran. He ran much faster than Ben would ever be able to run…so he watched him go. It made him sad.

* * *

Daryl ran all the way back to the river before he dared stop, and even then it was only to catch his breath. He started walking as fast as he could towards the waterfall so he could cross. It was more tiring on the way back, the ground was sticky from the heat of the July sun, and the air near the water was extremely humid, particularly once he was back under the cover of the trees. He was seething inside. That kid was mocking him, mocking because he had the perfect family and Daryl had a twisted older brother who left him alone with his abusive, drunkard father. Wiping a tear from his eye, he stumbled through the woods following the path he had made earlier. As he grew more angry, his speed increased until he was running, full pelt through the woods.

If you've ever run through woods near a waterfall when you're ten years old and highly distressed, you'll know that really bad things are likely to happen. Running that fast through a forest undergrowth has its dangers, even for Daryl Dixon. As he turned a corner by a specific tree, aiming to propel himself out onto a large flat rock at the edge of the waterfall, his left foot slid on some moss, and his right foot got stuck under a tree root. The world turned a nasty shade of green, and then blue as wildness fought its way through Daryl's nervous system. It was like every single atom in his body screamed in panic and terror, sending electric nausea through his stomach and sending every hair on end as he flew forward with his hands outstretched, wide eyed, desperate for something to save him. At his momentum he would easily go right over the edge of the rock. It was bad. They say your life flashes before your eyes, and for Daryl that wasn't a treat. It made him feel guilty as a wave of regret washed over him, time slowed down, he watched as the edge of the drop pulsated nearer and nearer in his eyes, ears, nose, mouth, heart…everywhere could feel what was happening. With one last desperate motion, he swung his hand out back towards the forest and with the chances being absolutely minimal, his sleeve snagged something. All hope pinned on that, he flipped his wrist around like lightning and grabbed on to the root as tightly as he could. His body then continued with the momentum, sending him round in a spiral, rotated around that fixed point on the tree root, and coming to rest, hanging right over the edge of a cliff, rocks at the bottom, water gushing past him, soaking wet, holding on with one hand.

"HELP!"


	5. Bay City Rollers

**Chapter 5: Bay City Rollers**

After a moment or two of shouting and scrambling around with his left hand, right firmly wrapped around the root, he realised that panicking wasn't going to help him here. He closed his eyes and analysed the situation. Worst case scenario; he falls…the drop was a good ten feet, rocks at the bottom and a deep pool. If he managed to avoid the rocks he would be pulled under and could easily drown, if he hit the rocks he could hurt himself to the point where he wouldn't make it home. And even if he did make it home, who would look after him? Calming himself as a new wave of terror washed over him, he looked at his hand. The root was not in the ground both ends, and his hand was already slipping down it. Although it was long and his hand was a good few inches from the end, he would eventually fall off the end of it. He decided to try and climb up it, but it was pressed tightly to the ground at the top of the cliff because of the weight he had on it; he couldn't get his other hand around it, he just couldn't wiggle his fingers underneath it. He placed his left hand a little below his right to try and prevent further slipping, and shouted again. There was no response. He kicked out with his legs, but the cliff edge protruded over the rest of the earth wall, meaning he could just about touch it with his toes. Cursing to himself, he again tried to pull himself up, but he just didn't have the upper body strength to haul his entire weight with nothing to grab onto further up.

"SHIT! ANYONE COME AND PLEASE HELP ME! HELP! I'M BY THE WATERFALL! I'M GUNNA FALL!" he bellowed. Considering his age, he really could get some good weight behind his shouts. There was even a hint of a raspy growl in there that half scared him, half made him proud. He was starting to sound like his dad.

He waited again for a few more moments before he resigned himself to the knowledge that he was going to have to just drop. Bracing himself for impact, he screwed up his eyes and took some deep breaths…

_…bye bye baby, baby goodbyeeee…bye bye baby, don't make me crryyyyyy…_

Daryl's eyes snapped back open at the sound of "Bye Bye Baby" by the Bay City Rollers.

"HELP!" He yelled. If he could hear them, they could hear him. "C'MON, HELP ME!" He shouted. The music grew louder as it got nearer, then suddenly very loud, accompanied by rustling and twigs snapping. Before Daryl could shout out again, a face appeared over the edge of the cliff. It was his dad's wife's new boyfriend. He almost let go purely out of reluctance to be helped by this man, but the prospect of pain kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the root. He really was terrified for his life.  
"Hey buddy, c'mon gimme your hand," the man said, stretching his arm down to Daryl. After a second's hesitation, Daryl released the root with his right hand and grabbed onto the outstretched hand. The man was easily strong enough to pull up a small underfed boy. Daryl watched his fear wash away with the waterfall as he was righted and released standing about a meter away from the water on the rock. He looked at the man, a mixture of guilt and relief building up inside him, growing too much. Daryl started to cry. He couldn't hold it in anymore. As much as he hated crying – it just wasn't something an adult would cry about, and Daryl was determined not to be a child for any longer than he had to be. Children were dependent. Children were weak.  
"Are you ok?" the man asked. Daryl nodded vehemently.  
"Daryl?" He whirled around, he hadn't even noticed she was there. She was watching from behind a tree.  
"YOU!" He shouted, anger starting to rise again. "You have any idea what you've DONE!" he shouted, that growl creeping back into his voice. She must have noticed as well, one of her hands dropped down from where she was holding them and fell on to the head of her new son. He looked mildly interested, she looked scared. "He's angry you know. You can't just leave people! You…you can't just leave me!" Daryl shouted at her. He had been crying anyway, now he was practically hysterical. "And, he's so angry, I don't even know how I know, but he is. And he's going to take it out on me." Daryl finished, tears flooding down his face, flowing free into the waterfall. Escaping.

"You know him?" the man asked her. She nodded her head.  
"Daryl?" she asked. _What is she even asking? Like I'm ok!_ "Daryl, come back with us. You look like you need to sit down, I don't want you wandering in the woods like this ok? You could hurt yourself you're in such a state. Why are you on your own? You know what I told you about being out here. You should be with your brother, where is he?"  
"He left too…" Daryl muttered.  
"I never meant to leave you Daryl. It wasn't you I was leaving, I just had to get away from him!" she said. Daryl looked up at her, surprised to see she also looked tearful. He had never even thought she was unhappy with him, it was only now that he remembered all the time she spent with her brother in Iowa. How often he came home from dates without her, those were bad nights for everyone. "I'm sorry, come with us, come on. We'll look after you for a while ok? Get you some food and clean you up."

Daryl stared at her and her son for a while, and then at her new boyfriend. He knew what would happen to him if Will found out where he was. He looked down the river, towards home.  
"He'll never know." She said.  
"Ok. I'll come with you, but only for a while. He can't know." Daryl said ad reluctantly followed them back to their house.

_**A/N sorry it's such a short chapter, the next one will be lots longer because I think a lot is going to happen in the next one. Thanks for reading, please review :D x**_


	6. The Fire

**Chapter 6: The Fire**

"So how come you're out here on your own?" he asked. Daryl looked at him. He was much taller than Will, better built and more physically pleasing. He was certainly more charming, and Daryl could see, as much as he hated it, why she had picked this man over his father. He probably didn't beat his kid. "Adventure's hard to come by when you stay inside all day." Daryl replied. "I like it out here."  
"Ok, so you like it out here, that's understandable, but how do you _get_ out here? What, you follow the stream up from the village?" he asked, a shadow of concern on his face.  
"No man, we live up here. Just across the river and up through the forest. What? She never told you that?" Daryl smirked at him as she looked horrified.  
"Ah, no…no she didn't."

They were sitting in the spacious kitchen in the log house. Daryl had protested as much as he could, but he secretly wanted to get a look inside and so was never going to win out in a battle of wills – really they had already won. She had introduced her son Ben, who had then run off to fetch something from his room sending her chasing after him, and leaving Daryl alone with this man. The man yet to be introduced. And now he was asking questions as though he was concerned for Daryl and wanted to look out for him. Yeah, right. People had convinced Daryl they were there for him before, spun these endless webs of lies about how they cared about him and how they were going to look after him. This time he wasn't going to fall for it.

"So why don't you live in the village? Must be hell to get in to school is it not?" the man asked, clearly desperate for some form of communication. What was it with people trying to bond today? Daryl was fine how he was.  
"We moved."  
"Oh yeah? How come?"

_ It was a sunny day, Daryl was outside with his friends, playing. He could do that when Merle was not around, and he was serving some time in Juvy for taking a joy ride with his friends. It wasn't a severe sentence, he hadn't been the primary troublemaker, he was just charged with being an accomplice, and since he was only fifteen it wasn't as severe a sentence as it could have been. They all had bikes, Daryl didn't; the family couldn't afford one for him. So he ran around after his friends, trying to keep up. They heard sirens, echoing around the block, so they followed them. All up on their bikes, chasing the noise, wanting to see what was going on. Daryl tried his best to keep up but he couldn't run that fast, and they were all gone before he had much time to even work out where they were going. He headed home instead, and was surprised to find that the sirens were getting louder. Then, as he turned into his road, he saw his friends, all looking at him. Hell, everyone was looking at him. There were big fire trucks everywhere, the whole neighborhood had come out to see if they could help, now they were staring at him as well. It was his house they were there for, his mother, who liked to smoke in bed. There was nothing left. Nothing at all. It didn't exactly sink in for a while, like it wasn't real. Since then, they'd all moved on. All except for Will. He sat every night in the same chair, watching the fire burning in the grate, wishing he'd been there for her. And Daryl hardly got to know his mom, Merle wasn't even there. He was left to deal with it alone. All the people who said they'd help him weren't there for him, they were there for themselves, so they could feel good about 'helping the little motherless child'…like he needed their charity; he would be just fine on his own. They moved, almost straight away after the funeral, up into the forest, and the hills, to a small shack. Not much, they didn't have much money to start, and no insurance on the house, now it was all they could do to make ends meet with Will's hunting paying a little extra on the side of his mill job…_

_ That's what Daryl was doing out in the woods on his own. His friends didn't speak to him anymore because he was the freak with a drunken father and no mommy. His brother wasn't around, his mom had left, and his dad didn't want to know. And this man, the man who has it all, _including Daryl's new mom,_ wants to know what he's doing wandering in the woods. _

"Kid? How come you moved?"  
"Mom died."

"Hey honny, how's it going with you two then? You gettin along?" She said, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Daryl, this is Mark, I don't think I introduced the two of you did I? Mark honny, this is Daryl, Will and Deb's youngest."  
Daryl was a little startled to hear his mother's name casually thrown into conversation like that. He hadn't actually heard anyone say it for years now, let alone having it dropped casually into conversation like that. It was weird. It made him uncomfortable.  
"Daryl, are you staying for dinner sweetie?" she asked him, in the most motherly way she could have. That also made Daryl uncomfortable.  
"No, no I'll get something…" he mumbled.  
"Daryl, sweetie, I've seen what you eat when you say that. You go off and kill some poor little rabbit and pull it apart over a small fire somewhere, honny that's not food, that'll make you sick! You should stay here. Those fires can't cook food properly. Stay here I insist."  
Daryl looked around. It was nice, and it sure looked like _Mark_ was earning enough money for them to afford to put up another person for dinner for one night. Ben came in, pushing past his mother's legs, and took a seat next to Daryl, holding in his hand the thing he had run off to get. It was a tiny little kids bow and arrow. The arrow had a little red suction pad at the end to stick to windows and things, and the bow was hardly more than a curved piece of plastic and a rubber band, but the kid was eager to show him. Daryl looked down at it with mild interest, before almost laughing and saying with pride, "My dad's got one of those; a big one. It's for huntin', I could show you sometime?"  
The kid's eyes lit up at the thought, and Daryl laughed. "Yeah, I'll stay for food." He told her. Really, he just wanted to stay a little longer until he could work out what was with this kid.

She made stew for dinner. Daryl was almost surprised that it was good! Most days when she was cooking he had gone out hunting and eaten whatever he had found, just to make a point about not needing anyone, to make a point about her not being his mother. It was kind of ironic that now that she wasn't his mom anymore, he was letting her be. He sat by Ben and listened to the new family talking and laughing, he listened to all their little in-jokes, and he asked questions about their lives. Mark was a teacher, and would be starting at the school in September, when Ben would be joining Daryl's class. He specialized in History, but was devoted to kids and wanted to teach at a middle school for a while before moving on to high school or college students. Ben didn't know anyone here because they moved just before the summer break and so he hadn't been enrolled in school yet. He kept calling Daryl his new friend, Mark kept calling him son, and she kept calling him sweetie..it was like having a second home. He got completely swept up in his time there, and how much he was enjoying himself. He even had a go at shooting Ben with the bow…

Then it went dark.

Daryl had no idea he had been there for so long. He started to panic, quickly explaining that he had to leave, tripping over his feet as he ran through the house, desperate to get out. He was in trouble if he was caught out of the house when it was dark. And being in trouble was bad. Really _really _bad. Terror began its familiar cause up his body, starting in his gut and spreading rapidly like an ice cold sweat. He thanked them for everything, Mark for saving his life, Ben for playing with his toys, toys Daryl never had, and her, for just being there. He wrenched the door open and stepped out…

…his heart grew cold…

…it just stopped beating, and jumped right up into his throat…

…standing right by the tree that Daryl had hid behind earlier was Will Dixon…

…he was standing like an animal ready to pounce, shaking with anger…

"What in god's name are you doing here?" _Rhetorical question._ "What? Home's not good enough for you?" _Rhetorical. Don't answer. Keep quiet._ "And you! YOU AGAIN! YOU FUCK! What? It wasn't enough to steal my wife, you take my fucking kid in the same day? COME HERE!"

…then he was running, fast towards them…

…someone grabbed Daryl's jacket and pulled him backwards, and then the door slammed shut in front of him, a protective barrier between him and his father. Something no child should ever require…

Daryl stared at the closed door, waiting for it to reopen, waiting for the pain. Nothing happened. His heart was beating like nothing else, throwing itself against his ribcage like it wanted to escape…the seconds felt like minutes, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, Mark went into the living room to look out the window. He returned saying he saw Will leaving, walking back through the woods. Daryl was scared, but he knew how much worse the punishment would be if he stayed any longer. He had to go home some time. He wanted to go home, his dad had even tried to bond with him earlier that day…he had to at least try. So he waited until the others weren't looking, and made a run for it. Before they even noticed what he was doing he was out the front door and running into the forest. He knew the way, and he knew they didn't. Being more careful about where he put his feet this time, he made his way a more direct path through the woods to the waterfall, and crossed effortlessly in his heightened state. From there it was pretty much a straight shot home, a path he hadn't taken before as he normally followed the river, but he thought he might win some brownie points if he made it home before Will. He would certainly be better off getting home as fast as possible. It was quite difficult to push through the woods without slipping on moss and wet rocks, or tripping on roots, especially in the dark as he couldn't see anything at all. Eventually, after much hard work he made it back. Staggering in through the back door, not even bothering to be quiet, he listened for the sign that his father was coming. He made it to the hall before he saw the dark shadow waiting at the foot of the stairs. He was slouched over a little, arms hanging by his sides, breathing heavily, the stench of whiskey in the air. Daryl took some shaky breaths to try and keep calm. They didn't help, nothing would; he knew what was coming.

"Have a nice time?" Will asked sarcastically, the growl was strong; as it always was when he was particularly angry.  
Daryl remained quiet.  
Then, without warning, Will lunged. Daryl raised his hands to protect his face as the full weight of his father crashed into him, pinning him against the wall and hurting his ribs. He made an effort not to cry out as his father's fist made a sharp and heavy connection with his left thigh. _Always places others won't see._ He was pushed to the ground and Will sat on his chest, placing both hands round his son's neck to hold him still. Daryl gasped as his air supply shortened. He gagged, and pleaded, but his father wouldn't let go. Slowly, like a television screen, the blackness began to emerge in the corner of his vision. His hands scrambled at his father's heavy hands, but made no difference as the blackness closed in slowly, making the circle of his vision smaller and smaller…until it was entirely consumed with darkness. His hands fell to the floor, his breathing slowed.

_ I love you Daryl, never let that go. I love you. You're worth something, you mean something, and violence is not the only way to live. I love you. Don't let your father take that from you, don't let him take away your happiness. I love you Daryl, never let that go._


	7. 4th September, 1979

_**A/N…hi guys, sorry it's been so long since my last update I've been struggling with this one. Enjoy…not long now before my OTP springs into life hahaha ;) … **_

**Chapter 7: September 4****th**** 1979**

The holidays dragged, much longer than he had hoped, and in order to get away from his father Daryl spent most of his time in the woods. Not the side of the woods he usually roamed though, now that he knew who else was there, and now that he knew what would happen to him if he was with them. After the last lesson, he had started leaving through the front door and crossing the road, before climbing the much steeper, much more dangerous hillside opposite the house. Those were the advantages of living on what was practically a mountainside…there was always somewhere new to explore…somewhere new to investigate. So Daryl had passed the time building his own tree house, his own spot which he could go running off to, _just like Merle._ And now that it was September he had something else to occupy his time with. His last year of Elementary school; soon he would be starting Middle school so this was his last opportunity to make friends before the move, because once they were in middle school, people split into little cliques and he would be alone if he didn't make some good solid friendship foundations this year.

So, on the fourth of September, he walked down road at half seven to get to the school bus at eight, to get to school for half past, to start at nine. Daryl didn't usually like school, too many rules, inside all day, you couldn't just do what you liked, and most importantly it was so boring. But it was better than being at home. He skived some days, but this year, it was important to make friends. He didn't get off to a great start though…as soon as he stepped onto the school bus silence fell, everyone looked at him. _I guess word's got around that she left my dad then._ Daryl instinctively glanced at his reflection in the nearest mirror to check for bruising. That could be what they were staring at. No marks, no scars, just like always. He handed the bus driver a dollar, and stepped into the aisle. There were no double spaces. He was going to have to sit next to someone, and everyone was watching him; except for one little boy. One little boy was smiling at him. He patted the seat next to him, indicating that Daryl should sit by him…and the pressure was on, any second now the bus was going to move off and he would have to sit somewhere. Ben smiled again, and patted the seat next to him insistently. Daryl sighed and sat down, looking anywhere other than Ben's face.

"Haven't seen you for a while…" Ben said. Daryl snuck a glance at him, he was still smiling.  
"Been busy." Daryl grunted.  
The rest of the journey passed in silence.

The new year came with a new teacher. Mrs Kendall. She was nice, very tall. She seemed strict, you could tell by the way she stood up so straight, and the neatness of her clothes. Her hair was in a flawless ponytail, and although she was young, she looked as though she had been through some tough times; there were lines around her eyes and on her forehead. The 5th grade took their seats in her classroom, most talking amongst themselves; Daryl on his own at the very back in the left corner by a window. He could see the hills on the outskirts of the village, his forest, and in the distance the mountains. There was an introduction. Mrs Kendall announced that she had been teaching for all of seven years and that she was married with a child to a man called Chip. Daryl stared out the window, not paying attention. Kendall went through the schedule they would all adhere to for the next year and handed out timetables, most of his lessons were with her. He looked around the class with mild interest, noticing that the pairs the class had fallen into were very similar to the duets that had taken up residence beside each other on the school bus…already existing friendships blossoming in the time they got to spend together. Not to his surprise, Ben had taken a seat next to him, only adding to the impression he was trying not to give off – that they were, in fact, friends. Daryl rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, desperate to ignore his new stalker. It wasn't that he didn't like Ben, although he didn't particularly, it was the whole scenario around that kid. He hassle he could cause would be completely unreasonable.

The morning passed strangely quickly, all in a bit of a blur. Daryl had done his very very best to stand at the back of the room with his arms folded to indicate how very 'out' he was from participating, particularly when they had moved all the tables aside to make room for some 'ice-breaker' activities. He thought the whole thing was ridiculous. He knew most of these kids; he just hadn't seen them for seven weeks. They were in a new grade, with a new teacher, not in a new school. Anyone would have thought they'd all just moved states! And so he decided he didn't need to take part. He enjoyed watching anyway – not that he'd let it show. He liked seeing how the different kids acted around each other. They were so much happier than he was, they could just be happy and run around, no cares in the world. Daryl practically looked after himself. He had all the worries in the world.

When lunch came, he was stunned to find that someone came over to talk to him. She was blonde, vaguely pretty and covered in freckles. She tried to talk to him for a while, but soon gave up and walked back to her friends. Daryl kicked himself. He wanted to make friends, he really did, but there was a lump forming hard in his throat at the sickening thought of how easy the lives of these children were, how different from him they were. When she had tried to talk to him, all he could think was that she had no idea how he lived, and that she wouldn't want to be friends with him if she knew the real him. She probably didn't even want to talk to him anyway – her friends probably put her up to it. She certainly didn't come back. So Daryl stayed in his corner. Despite himself, he almost wished Ben would come over to see him. But Ben had forged a new friendship with one of the bigger boys. This surprised Daryl. This was Ben's first day here, and although Daryl knew most of the kids by sight, and some by name from his earlier childhood, he didn't really know anyone as a friend…he kind of hoped he and Ben would be in the same boat. And he kinda liked thinking that. But if Ben was going off to find new friends, then so be it. Daryl could make friends tomorrow, or the next day…he had all year to make friends with these people.

At the end of lunch, Daryl had spent all of his time alone. He would have eaten, but he didn't bring any lunch to school with him, and he would die before asking his father to either make him something or give him money to go to the cafeteria and get a hot meal. No one noticed him standing in the corner all lunch watching the trees sway in the slight breeze…no one talked to him after the blonde girl. But it didn't bother Daryl at all. He liked being on his own.

Just as he had resigned himself to that thought, ignoring the bitter pang that was echoing across his chest at the wish that Ben would befriend him, he noticed the big lad with his hand on Ben's shoulder. He was much taller than Ben, and a lot heavier. As Daryl had previously noticed, Ben was short for his age anyway, but next to the big kid he looked like nothing; paper about to rip in two, crumbling under the pressure of the hand on his shoulder. An uncomfortable knot appeared in Daryl's stomach as he watched the big kid standing over Ben, clearly displeased in some way, a menacing expression all over his face, his fist pushing harder and harder down on the poor boy's shoulder. Daryl wasn't going to do anything. It wasn't his place; neither Ben, nor the big kid, were his friends, or his enemies, and he wasn't Merle. He wasn't going to throw himself into a fight simply for the sake of it. Then Ben made a noise. It was like a small, strangled gasp, and Daryl noticed the skin had turned white around both kid's knuckles. The big kid was now squeezing Ben's shoulder, and Ben was clenching his fists in an effort to slow the pain. Daryl had done this a thousand times. It didn't work. Clenching made it worse…and left little finger-nail scars in your palm. The sight of Ben clenching his fists pulled hard at the knot in his stomach. Screw not being like Merle, screw school rules, screw the kid who was bigger than Daryl…he let out a mighty roar and ran across the classroom, snowballing into the big kid, toppling him over and landing on top of him. Daryl managed to end up sitting on the kid's chest, so he could hold his hands down onto the ground – not too violent but more out of protection as the kid was trying his hardest to punch Daryl…but Daryl had the advantage! He had spent his entire summer outside, climbing trees and hacking down sticks…he was strong. The other kid had flabby arms and although he was bigger he didn't have a clue how to use his size to his advantage. Daryl easily held him down, his legs wrapped around the other kid's thighs holding him still, arms pinned to the floor…staring right at each other.  
"I might be wrong, fatty, but I thought I saw you bullying my friend." Daryl spat.  
"Get off me freak!" the big kid yelled, tears beading in his eyes.  
"Appolgise!" Daryl yelled back…he looked over his shoulder and saw Ben beaming at him. He looked like he had never seen anything so cool in his entire life.  
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, ok?" the kid said, quietly, full-on crying now.  
"You're such a whimp! For a bully I'd have thought you'd have more fight in you." Daryl said, before getting up. He put an arm round Ben and they turned away…  
But they didn't make it very far before something made contact with the back of Daryl's head, hard. It sent a blazing flash of light spinning around him and he fought for his balance before his knees hit the ground hard. The floor was closer than it normally seemed. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing…after a few seconds it subsided and he opened his eyes, to find out he was lying on the ground a few feet away from where he had pinned the big kid. There was a small crowd around him, most of them looking fairly worried and sympathetic, one of them was Mrs Kendall. She put her hand around his upper arm and pulled him to his feet, looking in his eyes and asking him questions. Daryl felt a little dizzy, but he had hit his head harder than that out in the woods, and had passed out for longer. He answered her questions and told her he was fine, and convinced her to leave him alone. The crowd dispersed and he took his seat at his desk. It was only then he noticed the big kid was not in the room, and Mrs Kendall walked back out.

"What happened?" he asked Ben who had sat eagerly next to him, filled with renewed faith in their friendship.  
"Well, '_fatty'_ got back up and hit you with the globe," he said, pointing at the sphere on the floor, now supporting a fantastic crack down one side. "Then, you blacked out, and he freaked out…then Mrs Kendall came in, and she freaked out, and she sent him out, and he started crying…and she asked what happened, and the whole class, they're all on your side, they all said he just hit you! Then you woke up!" Ben said triumphantly. "Am I really your friend?!" he asked excitedly. Daryl's eyes widened as he remembered what he had said…then he remembered the white on Ben's knuckles, the sweat on his brow…his eyes wide with fear as the bully threatened him…maybe these kid's lives weren't as easy as he always thought they were…  
"Yeah, yeah course you are…" he said with a smile, thumping him on the back. Course he was.


	8. It's Not Supposed To Go Like That

_**A/N…hey guys, fair warning you might not like this chapter. Please review :D**_

**Chapter 8: It's not supposed to go like that.**

"No, you don't just shoot straight away, you have to track it, follow it until you can get close enough. If you just run out of the woods holding a knife and a gun, you'll never ever catch anything. We stalk…"  
Ben nodded his head as he and Daryl walked back up the road from the bus stop towards Daryl's house. Whilst walking they noticed a rabbit, and Daryl had pointed it out and told Ben how his dad taught him how to hunt. It had been a long summer, five or so years ago, and he taught Daryl and Merle how to do it. The same summer their mother died. The lessons stopped after the fire. Ben was fascinated.  
"And then you eat them?" he asked, a hint of revulsion amidst the pure excited energy.  
"Mostly yeah, we used to take them home and my mom would make stew or something, now though, I just build a fire in the woods and cook it on my own. It's fairly easy to skin a rabbit with the right knife, and my penknife is amazing for it." Daryl said, whipping his knife out of his pocket and flicking it up to show Ben the sharp blade. "It's easy, I'll show you sometime."

They were nearing the house now, and Daryl was getting more and more nervous as time went on. He could feel the heat rising in his chest and face…but when they rounded the last corner, he saw that their old red jeep was not there and a wave of relief washed over him. They went in the house and Daryl picked up the hunting gear; some rope, a net, checked he had his knife, and then went into his dad's room and took the gun from his bedside table. As he held it in his hand his stomach flipped slightly and he became a little giddy. Despite all his bragging to Ben on their way here, he had never been allowed the gun before. For a moment, he hesitated, thinking about how much trouble he would be in if his father could see him right now…but he felt Ben's eager eyes on him and as he pocketed the gun, he flashed his new friend a confident smile. They made their way down the stairs and out into the yard where Daryl pointed at the mountains and then down at the village. "The river runs all the way Ben, and if we follow it we should find something to eat…" he said, then led the way through the forest, down towards the water.

They were out for an hour, pottering around the woods, always staying on that side of the river, before they saw something. Daryl noticed two small sets of tracks running along the undergrowth, and after examining them for a moment worked out which way they were going. They followed the tracks for a few moments, before Daryl bent down and made a trap out of the rope, a loop at the end which would close as the animal crossed it. He then led the way off the tracks towards the right so they could loop round and drive the animal towards the track. Ben was silent as he watched Daryl in awe as he worked. He followed his footsteps exactly barely breathed as he kept his eyes open for sign of the animal. Daryl spotted it first – a rabbit hole, one little head sticking out the top. He approached silently, knife ready, and when he felt the time was right – he lunged. He managed to catch one of the rabbits before they saw him, the other two bolted, and a second later he heard a snap as the trap caught one of the others. He held his rabbit tight and killed it in the most humane way he could – not the way his father showed him. It struggled for a moment and then fell still. Ben looked a mixture of shocked, appalled and amazed.  
"Dinner." Daryl said, satisfied.  
"Ok…" Ben half laughed. This was certainly different to how his dinner time normally went, but he had asked, and he was going to see this through.

They tracked back the way they came until they reached the trap and the other rabbit which had broken its neck in the trap. Daryl took it down and they went to the river so that he could wash them after he'd skinned them. Ben again sat and watched in silence as Daryl skinned them and cut off the parts that weren't edible. Once they were prepped, he laid them out on a rock to drain out a little whilst he rooted around for some sticks to build a fire. He tried to avoid ones with too many dried leaves so there would be minimal smoke and the fire would burn hotter and cook the meat properly. He left Ben with the food so that they wouldn't be stolen by any other animal that might be hungry. There weren't many sticks around, but they didn't need a big fire, so he gathered a handful and went back to Ben, all the while very _very_ conscious of the gun bouncing in his pocket. He was starting to get nervous about it, like it was burning a hole in his leg…always there…weighing him down.

Ben was sat exactly where he was when Daryl returned. The rabbits seemed to have drained all the blood that they were going to and looked about ready to cook. He built the fire on a dry rock and lit it by rubbing two of the shorter sticks together until he had a spark that caught one of the dryer sticks. Within minutes the fire was raging and he placed some more rocks around it to keep it from the slight wind. Once the fire was hot enough, he wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his school jacket and flipped one of the rocks over so the part that had been against the fire was now facing upwards. He lay the rabbits down on the rock and let them fry before he was satisfied they would cook properly. He walked away and sat down on the bank next to Ben.

"So, that's how you hunt. Any questions?" he asked a little awkwardly. He wasn't used to talking to people and didn't really know how to go about a normal conversation.

"No, no that was really cool! How long is it going to cook for?" Ben asked.

"Well they were pretty skinny so not long really. To be honest they'll probably be done soon."

They sat in silence for a while. Daryl watched the food and Ben stared at Daryl. It was a little disconcerting, and Daryl was about to tell him to stop it when Ben finally voiced what had clearly been the elephant in the room for the whole day. "Why didn't you come back round?"

Daryl didn't answer. He had been avoiding this entire topic, even to himself and he certainly wasn't about to explain his situation to a little kid who could easily have been six. Instead he stared at the ground and avoided the avid gaze of his friend.

"It was your dad wasn't it? He stopped you from coming round."

There was a long silence whilst both of them said nothing…then Ben poked Daryl hard on the arm. "Look at me!" he exclaimed. In shock at being spoken to like that, Daryl looked up. "He hits you doesn't he?" Ben asked, his eyes wide with pity and shock.

"What do you live on your own with him or something? Oh god, why did my mum leave you with him?!" he said, clapping his hand to his head. Daryl just watched him, a bitter taste in his mouth. So she was his mother was she? Even Daryl hadn't allowed himself the privilege of calling her that, and she had been there nearly every day for five years.

"Merle left about a month and a half ago…just before we met actually. Haven't seen him since." Daryl replied, as matter-of-factly as he could. He stared up at the sky, blinking back a tear. _A tear? He hadn't cried since his mother died…_

There was another dreadfully awkward silence where Daryl just didn't know what to say. When he could stand it no longer he got up to check the rabbit. They were well seared on one side so he turned them over and waited for them to cook through. It wouldn't be long now. He informed Ben of the progress and re-took his seat on the bank. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back as he contemplated his next move. Ben waited patiently, obviously understanding that Daryl would talk when he was ready. Suddenly, Daryl felt as though someone had reached inside him and grabbed his throat tightly. He couldn't breathe properly through the lump and his breath came in ragged gasps as he fought back tears. Sorrow washed over him as he suddenly realised how terrible his life really had been over the last few months, how no one had _ever_ asked him before to tell them what he was going through, and when he added in the extra fear factor of having stolen his father's gun to impress a kid he hardly knew, and one who was clearly already impressed…he broke down. For a while he struggled with it, hiding it as best he could, but it was no use. Within seconds he was gushing to Ben about how after his mom died he had no one, Merle wasn't even there for him, how over the years the beatings had escalated and escalated, he told Ben about what had happened the last night he visited their family, when his father had strangled him to the point of passing out and then left him there on the floor, going out to the pub instead of dealing with his son, and that when he woke up the next morning he had had a nose bleed and had massive bruising and swelling around his legs, a pounding headache and severe dehydration. He hadn't seen his father for three days after that, and hadn't spoken to him since.

It was hard to get out, but once he started he couldn't stop. Ben sat patiently and listened the whole time. When he was finished, to his shock Daryl actually felt a little better. It had almost put his time into perspective a little, as he told the story, he could hear it from another point of view and saw things he could do himself to be more careful, ways he could stay away from his father, as he went through the years of abuse he noticed patterns in the abuse and almost managed to work out when he would be most at risk…most of the beatings happened when his father felt threatened in some way…and having someone to talk to about it all felt like he was finally sharing the burden with another person again. Now that Merle was gone, he wasn't alone to deal with these things. Ben let him finish, and then said nothing. There was really nothing he could say – certainly nothing that would help Daryl in his situation, but that didn't matter – what mattered was that he was there.

He talked for about half an hour, and then they both sat in silence, Ben's hand resting on Daryl's shoulder. It was when the smell of burning meat met Daryl's senses that he remembered the food, and he hurried over and used a small stick to pry the rabbit off the rock. It was very well cooked considering he had completely forgotten about it – not too burnt to eat, so he scooped a few flat rocks out of the water and wiped them on his jumper before laying a rabbit on each and taking them over to where Ben was waiting. He handed Ben one and sat down with his own. Again in silence, the boys ate their food. Daryl was very happy with how his turned out, but Ben seemed to be struggling to choke his down. Daryl looked to the side and saw him pulling a strange concentration face as he picked a bone out from the morsel he had pulled of the main body. Daryl laughed manically and punched Ben playfully on the arm.

"Just eat it kid, it won' kill you!" he said, still laughing as he tore off a strip of his own with his teeth and chewed it a little before swallowing it practically whole. It was starting to go a little dark and Daryl didn't want to be up in the hills without much protection, in the dark, smelling of fresh meat. _Although they did have the gun…_

Daryl finished his in minutes and watched Ben pick his to bits. In fairness he did manage to eat all the meat – but for a country boy he was fussy. It amused Daryl to watch him. He wouldn't last a week on the road with Daryl or Merle…this is the sort of food they would be eating every day. When Ben looked like he would eat no more, Daryl went over to the fading fire and kicked some water over it to put it out with a hiss. He then took the 'plates' with the bones on and threw them Frisbee style into the river to be washed away. Maybe a fish would like Ben's left-overs. They then started to head back up the hill, through the close-knit trees towards Daryl's house where Ben had left his school bag.

At no point on the way did Daryl even consider that his father may have returned.

* * *

When they broke through the trees into the clearing where the house was situated, they were laughing quite loudly. They had managed to push past the awkwardness of the previous conversation – if anything it had made them closer as Daryl confided in his new best friend, and Ben was happy to be there for him as long as he was needed.

The laughter stopped as soon as Daryl caught sight of the back door. A face loomed behind the mesh, and although all the lights in the house were off, Daryl could clearly see the anger etched onto his father's face. Although they were at least six metres away from each other, he could almost feel the heat radiating across the yard. It was channelled directly to the weight in his pocket – something he was now more aware of than ever before. Ben laughed for a few seconds after Daryl had stopped, but soon realised what was happening and took a few steps to the left, away from Daryl; probably instinctive, perhaps an attempt from his unconscious mind to get him away from the child who was about to be beaten to a pulp by his drunk father. Or possibly, possibly he was trying to show that there was no friendship between himself and Daryl, as a way of protecting himself from a beating, or to show that Daryl shouldn't be punished for hanging out with 'the enemy'. If the latter was the case, there was really no point. But in the subconscious of a ten-year-old mind there is no logic…only impulse.

Slowly, William opened the mesh door. He took a few steps out, and a few steps down…then stood still on the grass, still a good three metres away, but all the more terrifying in the anticipation of what was to come.  
"Where's ma gun boy?" Will growled. He was quiet, and sounded relatively calm on the outside, but Daryl heard the almost undetectable quiver that told him he was furious.  
"I don't know sir." Daryl said, sweat beading on his brow, the gun seemingly growing heavier with the lie. He was suddenly paranoid that his father had seen him take it, or could see it in his pocket. He fought his impulse to grab it and kept his hand firmly by his side. His father took a step towards them. Daryl fought to keep his face straight. He fought to stand up to him this time…then several things happened at once…something in the corner of his eye moved and caught his attention, and when he looked he was very surprised to see Merle standing on the edge of the clearing. He looked terrible, like he'd been sleeping under a rock for a month, not at his mate's house. At the same time, his father started yelling, and Ben started crying. Seeing Merle was a shock for Daryl, considering he hadn't seen him for so long, and wasn't really expecting to see him again for a long time, and the shouting snapped him out of his bravery immediately. He did the only thing he could think of and grabbed the gun, whipping it out of his pocket. He held it infront of him for less than a second before he recognised what he was doing. Fear gripped him onc e again, and, fully aware than every eye was on him he threw the gun to the ground in a sudden effort to get it away from him.

It happened as though in slow-motion. The gun twisted a little on his finger before falling, and landed upside down pointing to Daryl's left...then with an unbelievably loud bang it went off, forcing everyone to jump. The gun leapt into the air with the force of the explosion and Daryl's heart raced like never before...

There was silence then. The gun returned to the floor with a dull thud, and everyone in the clearing waited for something to happen. Then, a noise of that would haunt Daryl for every day of the remainder of his life was etched into his soul. No one even noticed Ben crumple and fall to his knees, but they all heard the crunch as his head hit the floor, landing on a crisp autumn leaf. It was like the air was gone from the universe. Everything stopped, everyone stopped, and Daryl turned to watch his friend roll from his knees to the ground, legs tangled and arms spread wide, blood leaking out from the newly opened wound that rent his tiny chest.

* * *

**_A/N...sorry guys..._**


	9. Dreams

**Chapter 9: Dreams**

A pressure numbed Daryl's senses. He wasn't aware of anything happening and it was as though the world was spinning so much faster than before…_why? Why did the world keep spinning?_ There was a kind of muffled buzzing in his ears, so he couldn't hear the shouting getting louder and louder. The deep red stain spread quickly, soaking Ben's shirt. He was still alive – he had to be. Daryl took a shaky step towards him…

…Something hit him in the side with the force of a charging rhino. He was knocked off his feet and all at once the world came back to him. Daryl was lying on the ground with Will on top of him, being punched in the face repeatedly, full force. He felt his nose break, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't cry out…there was blood filling his mouth and eyes and he couldn't breathe…the shouting became a roar, mixed with a bright white light and pure white noise…Daryl's hands reached up and pressed against his father's face as he struggled to get up…there was more shouting, now coming from his right and a little behind Will, Merle had run over. He was shouting something distorted, warped…it just sounded like a bass tone over and over…the tone of everything lowered…Daryl couldn't even feel his body anymore from the weight of his father on his chest…his face was numb…he wanted to give up and die…he let his face fall to the side so he could see the blurry shape of Ben in the grass; not moving; not getting up; not alive as he should be, as he had to be…the punching continued…the world began to turn black again…

Then for the second time that night, an explosion rent the world apart. Fresh blood showered over Daryl as Will rolled off him. Daryl didn't have the energy to sit up and look around, but he saw Merle out of the corner of his eye, standing tall, a blurred shape with an arm outstretched. The figure dropped something small down onto the grass and walked over to Daryl, scooping him up in his arms and carried him towards the house. Daryl stared at Ben as long as he could maintain contact, but he didn't have the energy to turn his head, and the blackness was closing in. With a small whimper, he allowed it to swallow him whole.

* * *

_Dull throbbing silence, broken by sharp, fast noises, strange colours swirling forever, and he was floating amongst the stars, stars that exploded and re-created around him, stars that welcomed him to their midst yet ignored him all the same. He was so tiny compared to the stars, they both accepted him and rejected him, but he was content to be. The colours morphed into shapes, animals that roamed free around him, birds soaring, grass growing, then trees and the woods; the woods he knew so well. It was like he was on a pedestal rising higher and higher above everything, out of this universe and into the next – a beautiful place. Then he was not alone, suddenly he was with his mother, Ben was there, the place was beautiful and so majestic but he could not move. At first he was not concerned, he was content to drift amongst the dream-state, through new worlds and new colours as they evolved around him; sometimes he was underwater, sometimes he was above the clouds…but it began to bother him. Ben and his mother rotated around him like atoms in an element, and he couldn't stop them…it was making him dizzy…and with the dizziness came nausea. Then a penetrating fear, fear of the unknown, fear of being out of control, he couldn't move or get away, then they started to laugh, not at him, just laughter…but it was eerie…he started trying to push them away but they stayed with him. The colours turned darker, reds and purples weaving in and out of their features, and his. Then his mother turned serious. She placed a hand on his chest, firmly above his heart and spoke with a voice mightier than thunder – "__I love you Daryl, never let that go. I love you. You're worth something, you mean something, and violence is not the only way to live. I love you. Don't let your father take that from you, don't let him take away your happiness. I love you Daryl, never let that go. But you can't stay with me Daryl, he needs you now, show him what I have shown you – the light inside you both. I loved him as I loved you. Stay with him." Her hand tightened, and turned into a fist, then she drew it back to herself, smiled in the sweetest way, filling him with joy, and hope, and purpose, then she threw it forward with all her might and punched his heart._

* * *

"FUCK!" Daryl shouted as he sat up; nearly head butting Merle as he did so. He looked around, his head spinning as he did so.  
"JESUS KID YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!" Merle shouted. The sound rang in Daryl's ears and he clasped a hand to his head, instantly regretting it as his fingers gingerly ran across the sensitive skin. "Oh sorry, I'll keep it down. You scared me there lil' bro! Thought you was a dead man." Merle said, carefully laying Daryl back down – for which Daryl was grateful as he couldn't have done it himself, and the altitude was hurting his eyes. "You stopped breathing for a while. I…the nurse came and they did this thing with your heart, they were kinda punching it…but they said they had to be careful cause you got a broken rib…"

For the first time Daryl noticed they were in a hospital ward. He immediately started to panic. "Why are we here?" he asked, his voice trembling. He had never ever been to the hospital because of the wounds his father inflicted…it could get Will into trouble, and then he'd be even more mad…

"Kid, you were dying on me! I tried to patch you up in the house but you were losing a lot of blood, he really battered you this time! I should have got him off you sooner. Then you went white, and you couldn't breathe properly…I couldn't wake you up, and your ribs all turned a purple-ish-red colour, so I put you in the car and brought you here. You stopped breathing on the way. It was scariest god-damn moment of my life." Merle looked at Daryl intensely as he said that. Daryl noticed he had water marks on his face – tear tracks through the layer of grit that covered his body.

"But Merle, dad's gunna kill us when he finds out-"

"Dad's dead Daryl." Merle said bluntly, dropping his head to his hands and resting them on the bed. "I shot him. I shot him to get him off you."

There was silence for a few long minutes as Daryl absorbed the information.

"How long have I been here?" he asked, noting Merle was wearing different clothes. He felt around under the covers and noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt, but bandages all around his waist and chest.

"Two days. You really were out." Merle said. He looked worried again.

"Did you tell them what happened?" Daryl asked, horrified. He was suddenly afraid he would be arrested for murder.

"No. They don't even know where we live, and it's not like anyone would have heard the shot…if you can move…if you can walk I mean…we should leave. They're going to take you away…" Merle said.

Daryl remembered the weird dream-vision-thing…his mum had said he needed to stay with Merle. Plus, he was terrified beyond belief that he would be arrested for Ben's murder once people found out, and Merle certainly would be for killing their dad. Merle was right, they had to leave.

He sat up straighter, noticing the tugging sensation in his arms; there were needles and tubes sticking out of him all down both arms. He pulled them out quickly, wincing at the sensation. He then pulled off his covers and swung his legs out of the bed, determination settling on his face. Merle watched in surprise and admiration as Daryl stood up slowly, clutching his side. He gasped in pain as he put all of his weight on his legs; he really had damaged his ribs. As he stood, he caught a glimpse of his own face and was shocked to see that it was barely recognisable due to bruises and swelling. One of his eyes was closed up, and the other was bloodshot and cut from the eyebrow to the ridge of his nose. The nose itself had a cast on so that when it healed it would be mostly straight, and his lips were swollen badly. Lowering his eyes, he reached for a blue checked shirt that lay on the back of the chair Merle sat in. His brother helped him put on the shirt over his dressings and checked he had removed all the wires and tubes.

"You ready lil' bro?" Merle asked. Daryl nodded, and led the way out of the ward and down the corridor. There was a flight of stairs at the end which he had difficultly descending, but with Merle's help they managed it. Then they were in the lobby. Standing up a little straighter, Daryl acted as though he was a visitor, inconspicuous like in the movies, and walked out with Merle right behind him. They attracted a few looks from people because of the state of his face, but no one stopped them. The car was clearly visible across the car park because of how brilliant red it was, and Daryl headed straight for it, a sensation of dread and fear building inside him as he contemplated the events of the last few days. He slid into the passenger seat and Merle got into the driver's seat and started the engine. Daryl looked back at the hospital to see a nurse running out towards them waving her arms and a clipboard. It didn't matter, Merle was already driving away. Daryl closed his eyes…they were driving away from it all. They were together, like his mom had told them to stay, and he didn't have to worry about his dad anymore. If anyone could make it on their own, the Dixon brothers could.


	10. Nine years later

**Chapter 10: Nine years later…**

_**November 23**__**rd**__** 1988**_

Daryl hunched over the bar, clutching his beer tightly as he laughed. Merle was stood on the stool beside him re-counting their latest tale. One of 'fear and woe' as he had introduced it, but in reality it was a long winded story which ended in a drunken Merle pissing on a police car and getting carted off to jail yet again. They'd been at an 'all-night drinking session' at a pub in Georgia about a year previously, and in the car on the way home, Merle had knocked over several mail boxes, Daryl had been sick and was unconscious in the back…then they got pulled over. Merle flirted with the poor young cop and then taken a whizz on the police car when the officer said "relax". Considering Daryl had been passed out for most of it, it was still one of his favourite adventures. He'd been taken to the same jail and put in an adjacent cell when they realised he was only 18 and under-age for drinking. Now, as Merle told the story, he re-enacted the piss part with a little too much enthusiasm and started fumbling with his zipper. It was a good job he was drunk, because he couldn't work out where it was, then once his fingers finally closed around it, he tried to zip it up rather than down, wobbled on the stool, flailed with his hands, and hit the deck. Daryl laughed even harder than before, downed the rest of his beer and ordered another before getting up and helping his brother to his feet.  
"Hey lil' brother!" Merle said, grasping Daryl's shoulders with both hands. "You helped me up, good for you – have a drink on me eh?" He said smiling in a lopsided, slightly scary way. Daryl giggled then pointed out that all his drinks that night had been on Merle, because he was under age…  
"Thieving little bastard!" Merle yelled, then tried to swing a punch – a completely off course punch – and fell over again.  
Daryl looked around him…the boys were howling with laughter and one handed Daryl his drink, so Daryl stepped over Merle and sat down at the bar again, hunched back over and made a start on his seventh beer of the night.

The door of the bar opened with a bang and a local cop walked in looking extremely stern.  
"Ah shit…" Daryl muttered. "Hey Bobby!" He hailed, twisting in his seat and pointing a finger gun at the cop.  
"Drunk again Mr Dixon?" Bobby replied, holding back a smile and placing his hands on his hips. "Look, lad, you're only 19, you aren't supposed to be in here and you know it. How drunk is your brother this time? God he looks awful! And how many have you had yourself?"  
"Only thr-oo. Two." Daryl lied, holding the bottle up so Bobby could see.  
"Well that's threw too many." Bobby said seriously. "You have to come with me again I'm afraid lad."  
"Lad? You're the same age as me loser!" Daryl laughed, getting up off his stool. "See ya guys!" Daryl said, waving absently at his friends around the bar, they were all still laughing from Merle's stunt but they said their goodbyes. Daryl and Bobby hoisted Merle to his feet and helped him out to the car, then Daryl joined him in the back seat as Bobby quickly ran through his rights – not that he really needed to, Daryl had them memorised.

The police station was quiet. Not many arrests at 2am on a Wednesday morning. Daryl sat in his cell next to a snoring Merle, holding his cup of coffee. Normally, the policemen wouldn't hand out coffee to the delinquents they'd picked up, but Daryl was in so often for minor offences – usually drink related – that he was on good terms with nearly all of the officers. He knew them all by name, and they all knew that he lived in a truck with his brother. Merle always liked getting arrested because it gave him a bigger seat to sleep on, and sometimes even a bed. Daryl liked it because he could talk to people who seemed to genuinely like him at the same time as being sober. He leaned back against the brick wall and stretched his legs out in front of him, sighing deeply in the quiet – broken only by his brothers snoring. The sound of heels on concrete alerted him to Bobby's approach, so he sat forward resting his elbows on his knees, bringing his mug right up to his face, letting the steam wash over him. Bobby stopped right in front of his cell and stared at him with an expression of mixed curiosity and disapproval.  
"You know, Mr Dixon, you spend more time here than most of the officers." He said, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.  
"If that's true then maybe you should start paying me for my time here. I'm not cheap either." Daryl replied, narrowing his eyes to see if Bobby would take him seriously. The cop laughed.  
"You're a funny guy Daryl. Can you shoot?"  
Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh. "I've been shooting since before you stopped suckling on your mother's titties son." Daryl answered smiling widely and holding his hands out in a gesture of honesty.  
"Insulting a police officer?" Bobby said, taking a step closer so that he was holding on to the bars that separated them. "You got spunk. Well, if you _want_ to get paid to be here, why don't you come along to recruitment tomorrow? Or you could just stay here until recruitment tomorrow…"

Daryl looked away, shrugging his shoulders. Suddenly the conversation had turned fairly serious. Merle was still fast asleep which was good, it meant Daryl could actually think about the offer without having his head and pride pounded in the interests of 'Loyalty'. He had never even thought about having a real job before, they'd always just got by selling and trading goods, hunting for their food, travelling, living in a truck. It wasn't his lifestyle to settle, and he wasn't about to ditch Merle. He snorted with laughter, looked back to Bobby.  
"Just can't get enough of me? I don't want a pussy like you watching my back! Nah! I got ma brother. Sorry bro, not your guy."

Bobby shrugged and walked away, swinging his keys around his middle finger, carefully aimed at Daryl – subtle – whistling to himself as he went. Daryl sank back into his relaxed position, a nagging doubt tugging at his mind, unsettling him. He'd never even considered an alternative way of life, never thought about leaving Merle…

…and he was not about to stop now. He watched his brother sleeping for a while, then let his head loll back against the wall and drifted off to sleep.

_I just have to say, when I picked the date at the start of this chapter, the year was to make Daryl 19, the month and day are my best mate's birthday…and then later on, I wanted it to be a Wednesday, so I put "2am on a Wednesday morning" and then later reckoned I should probably check that's right just in case…and it was actually a Wednesday! Sorry I was well psyched about that…you probably got bored of my boring little story. Love you all thanks for reading :P_


End file.
